


Be naughty and save santa the trip

by icarusinflight



Series: GWB Drabble Prompts [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Party, M/M, Pre-Slash-ish, terrible not flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13523895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight
Summary: The 8th years are allowed certain liberties that the years below them aren’t. They can stay out later, they no longer need parental permission to visit Hogsmeade. The dormitories no longer scream at intruders as they seemed fit.And they were allowed a Christmas Party in the dorms.





	Be naughty and save santa the trip

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allmadhere1225](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmadhere1225/gifts).



> Written for the Drarry Secret Santa exchange  
> Thank you for your patience with me newt-scamander!  
> You said you love awkward flirting and I hope this is enough of that for you!  
> Unbeta'd - all errors are my own

The 8th years are allowed certain liberties that the years below them aren’t. They can stay out later, they no longer need parental permission to visit Hogsmeade. The dormitories no longer scream at intruders as they seemed fit.

When McGonagall had announced that they were also being permitted to host their own Christmas Party – and that everyone could bring their own alcohol as long as they kept the noise down in their corner of the castle – which, with the addition of silencing charms they could easily adhere to. The alcohol had quickly been sourced on an emergency trip to Hogsmeade, as the most competent spellcasters – Hermione and Draco had been set the task of casting he silencing charms.

Then after everyone had trudged in after their final classes before the Christmas break, the party got underway.

Seamus had recreated a recipe of his grandmams Mulled Hollywood Cider and he doled that out as everyone joined in to set the special Christmas Party decorations – as opposed to the regular Christmas Decorations. There was a multitude of dirty christmas jokes - once again courtesy of Seamus which included posters saying things like ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ and ‘Be naughty and save santa the trip’. Harry had rolled his eyes at them when Seamus had been painting them, but people seemed to enjoy them and the posters had earned many a laugh from the rest of the 8th years.

In between the rounds of Seamus’s potent alcoholic potion, Seamus also made them various magical themed shots. Harry had no idea if these were shots that everyone drank in wizarding world – for all he knew Seamus head dreamed them up, or was making them up as he went. They sounded disgusting – there was one called ‘the boiled toad’ another ‘pickled newt’ – but while they burned on the way down, thankfully,  they weren’t actually made from the ingredients in their names.

Harry has found it best to check these things – just in case.

It’s not the first party they’ve has 8th years – far from it – but usually they’re held in the room of requirement, or out by the quidditch pitch. They’ve held them all over the castle – anywhere they can sneak. The professor’s are usually willing to turn a blind eye to their escapades as long as they’re not disruptive.

The only place off limits from parties was the astrology tower.

And he doesn’t want to think about why that is. Not tonight at least.

He takes the shot placed in front of him, swallowing it down in a gulp – a different concoction to the ones from before, although Harry can’t place the individual flavours. He winces at the afterburn from the liquid, but still licks the leftover liquid up – first from his lips, then from his fingertips. Dean may be a good mixer, but he’s a terrible pourer. The mixing table is always inevitably covered in all array of alcohol by the end of the night.

Harry picks up his glass of mulled cider, chasing the taste of the shot down with the sweeter and less abrasive alcohol. He tips his head backwards as he drains the glass, bringing his hand up to hold the ridiculous Christmas hat Ron had given him to his head. Ron claimed he had made them for himself, Hermione and Harry – although Harry suspected he might have had help with the moving parts from George, or at least advice. Ron’s had a complete Christmas tree, Hermione’s had a snowman, presents and a stocking. Harry meanwhile had a Christmas wreath strapped to his hat – it was ridiculous, heavy, and unwieldy. Harry had refused at first, but when Ron had given him _that look_ Harry had dipped his head, acquiescing to Ron placing the hat on. He’d had a few mishaps with the hat since then, accidentally headbutting part of the wreath in to Neville earlier, and dropping it into Lavender's drink – knocking the glass in the process – but he’s starting to get the hang of it now.

The now empty cup in front of him is his current most pressing concern, he backs out of the conversation circle he’d been involved in – a debate which started on the current limitations of sports safety for minors playing Quidditch and now involves hypothetical replacements for the sport.

Like there could be any replacement for Quidditch.

He takes a path via the edge of the room, sticking close to the walls and away from most of the people in the room. It’s not exactly that he’s avoiding everyone, it’s just that if he gets close to them, they’ll want to talk, and he feels like he’s talked enough for the time being. He just needs a little break from it.

He successfully avoids everyone, and makes it back to the drinks table without having to make conversation with anyone else, for which he’s thankful. He’s already pleasantly buzzed, but he’d like to stay that way, so he fills his cup to the brim with the Mulled Cider. As he brings the cup up to his lips he turns to look back at the party.

Which is when he sees it.

He’s found himself more and more often searching for Malfoy throughout the year – seeking out the easily identifiable white-blonde hair – and tonight is no different. As someone who needs to occasionally take a break from parties, it’s easy to recognise someone doing the same. Curled up in the window nook, and staring out the window is none other than Draco Malfoy.

He takes a sip of the glass, considering his options as he watches. He could ignore Malfoy, skulk off to some other corner of the room, or maybe make his way back to common room, head off to bed while no one is watching. They’re all tempting options, but when he notices the empty glass dangling from Malfoy’s fingers, he decides on a different course of action.

Placing his own glass on the table, he picks up a clean glass from the tray, and scoops cider into it until it’s mostly full. He picks up his own glass, takes a deep breath to prepare himself, and walks over to the window nook.

Malfoy doesn’t notice him - or at least doesn’t acknowledge him, and Harry stands there awkwardly for a moment before he asks “need a drink Malfoy?”

Malfoy startles, just slightly, but this close Harry can see the jerk of his shoulders in response, the way his head spins to look at Harry. Malfoy tears his gaze away to the empty glass in his own hands, staring down at it, before frowning at the glass.

“It appears I do,” Malfoy says, his voice a sounding small, and a little uncertain – as if he hadn’t considered it before now. He turns to look at Harry, and Harry’s attention is drawn to the line of Malfoy’s neck, his adam's apple standing out from the angle. Malfoy’s skin is so pale it looks bright in the dark corner, visible even in the reflection of the window, and his hair catches the little light in the dark corner.

“Well,” Harry says, holding out his glass towards Malfoy, “I have a spare glass if you’d like it.”

Malfoy takes the offered glass. “And you just happened to have a spare glass?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, before taking a sip of his glass.

Harry feels the flush on his face. “Must be a Christmas Miracle,” he mumbles, bringing his own glass to his lips to take a drink, hoping that if Malfoy notices he will attribute the colour to the heat of the cider.

Malfoy doesn’t say anything to that, just takes another sip of his glass before he turns his attention back to the glass.

“Can I join you?” he asks, looking pointedly to the space beside Malfoy on the window seat.

“Can I stop you?”

“Yes,” Harry replies, “if you say no I’ll leave you alone and find my own little space away from the party. You can keep this space all to yourself. And I get that. I do. But I just thought you might not want to spend the Christmas party all alone.”

Malfoy takes another sip from his glass. “Well go on then. Take a seat if it means so much to you.”

“How very generous of you,” he says, taking the space opposite Malfoy.

“It’s true. I am a paragon of virtue.”

Harry snorts at that. Malfoy turns to look at him briefly, before looking out the window again. Harry follows suit, turning his gaze out the window as he takes a sip from his drink. It’s dark out, he can’t see anything out through the window - he knows if it were day he would be able to see the forbidden forest - as it is the only thing he can see through the window is a spattering of star constellations, but he can’t identify them through the window - not that he knows many constellations. His constellation knowledge is pretty much limited to the northern cross and orion.

Instead he turns his attention to the reflection of Draco he can see portrayed on the dark glass. Malfoy’s let his hair go, it flops over his face now, in a way that Malfoy never would have let it do before – gone is the slicked back hair – and Harry has found himself wondering more often than he would like what else has gone the way of that hairstyle.

Even in the reflection Harry can see the grey-blue of Malfoy’s eyes – he’s staring intently out the window, but Harry doesn’t think he’s looking at anything in particular – his eyes look unfocused.

Harry drags his eyes away from Malfoy to his own reflection instead, steadfastly ignoring the darker colouring on his cheeks – visible even in his reflection.

“So are you having fun at the party?” he asks, trying for a distraction.

“Could be worse,” Malfoy says with a shrug, before leaning back against the wall. The movement brings him back to turned towards Harry, and Harry finds himself turning to meet his eyes, seeing the colour of his eyes properly this time – so much more vibrant now that Harry can see them directly. “But you know what would be more fun than this?”

It sounds – it sounds like _flirting_ – which – it makes no sense.

His mouth feels dry all the same.

He swallows, tries to steady his voice, before asking, “like what?”

“Anything really,” Malfoy says with a shrug. “But I was thinking about eating a croque-monsieur.”

Harry’s stomach drops, and he turns his attention away from Draco to the window again. It was stupid of him to get his hopes up – he and Malfoy may have been getting closer, may have actually started to socialise, like they might even be becoming something like _friends_ – but that was no reason to think that Malfoy would want anything more – no reason to have got his hopes up over a few words.

It takes a moment for him to realise when Malfoy is speaking again, “–thinking of heading down to the kitchen to ask the house-elves if they’ll make me one if you’d like to join?”

“I umm, I don’t know what that is,” he admits, turning back to face Malfoy, but dropping his gaze to his hands in his lap instead. He feels slightly embarrassed at it – a combination of his original embarrassment from his assumption, and now this added embarrassment of not knowing. When Malfoy gasps and jumps off the window seat his mind races – throwing out ideas about Malfoy calling out his ignorance in front of everyone, or laughing at Harry with his Slytherin friends who all undoubtedly know what a _croque-monsieur_ is.

In reality it’s only a moment – still long enough for his brain to have ran away with thoughts – only because it _can_ – before Malfoy is taking hold of his elbow and pulling Harry up to stand.

“Come on then Potter.” Malfoy pulls him away, quickly and efficiently pulling him through the room. Malfoy drops the glass in his hand at the drinks table, and Harry does the same, still unsure of what exactly is happening, but following nonetheless.

It’s not until they’ve pushed their way out through the portrait door that Malfoy speaks again, “you simply must try a croque-monsieur. I’ll beg the elves if I have to. It will change your life.”

Harry thinks seeing Malfoy beg would probably change his life.

* * *

 

The elves don’t make Malfoy beg, and the sandwich doesn’t change his life – but the rushed and brief kiss at the top of the stairs – still tasting of cheese and mustard at the top of the stairs and more than a little unexpected – might just do it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Comments and Kudos give me life  
> Find me at tumblr at [candybarrnerd](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/candybarrnerd)


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